


All We Ever Look For

by Riachinko



Category: Family Guy (Cartoon)
Genre: Barebacking, Bestiality, Catfishing, Hotel Sex, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Online Dating, Public Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-27 11:38:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15023759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riachinko/pseuds/Riachinko
Summary: Brian's scored hookup after hookup lately thanks to Tinder. Stewie plans to make a fool of his canine companion by standing him up for a date, but they actually hit it off an he finds that he can't stop saying yes to Brian's advances.





	All We Ever Look For

It’s a crisp Wednesday morning at the park when Stewie first takes notice - not that he isn't used to Brian ignoring him when he's been put in charge of babysitting, it's just much more apparent that Brian has no interest in playing with him when his snout is buried in a phone screen.

And Stewie understands the draw: the dog is hooked on Tinder, if only because he's had hookup after successful hookup with whatever poor college girl with daddy issues will swipe right.

“Excuse me,” he says incensed, crawling up beside Brian on the bench that overlooks the sandbox, “could you please have the decency for once to put away your phone and be a responsible guardian? Please?”

To his credit, Brian complies without putting up a fight - apologizes, even.

“Sorry, Stewie. I'm just trying to make arrangements for tonight. My date cancelled on me so I had to go through and see who was next in line.”

“In the interest of fairness.”

Brian stares at him, annoyed; previously bright eyes now squinted and dull. “...Yeah.”

Stewie grabs at Brian’s forearm, leaning over just enough to get a glimpse at the screen without glare from the sun.

“So who’s the lucky lady, then?” he asks with zest, much happier to be chatting with Brian now than he was playing with an uncooperative Rupert in the sand.

The dog’s eyes light up once again, tail wagging steadily to reflect the bounce in his mood. He smiles and flashes the screen down at the kid, “Her name’s Jennifer.”

She’s used a selfie as her display picture, and Stewie has to consciously restrain himself from rolling his eyes. It’s a buxom brunette in her mid-twenties - pretty, but unremarkable overall and a little bit heavy on the eyeliner wings. She’s in front of a modest red Jeep; big smile, pink-tinted aviators…

You can see halfway down her cleavage.

“Ah.”

Brian turns the screen away and pulls down a notification from the app. “I know what you’re thinking,” he says idly as he types with clumsy thumbs, “but I think this could actually last - I actually have something in common with this one. She likes Miles Davis. And she’s going for a bachelor’s degree in Liberal Arts.”

“Brian, _I_ like Miles Davis and _I_ can write at a college level, and I’m _one_. You aren’t setting your sights particularly high.”

“She plays tennis in her free time at her parent’s country club.”

“Remember when we did doubles at the Racquet Club?”

“Well,” Brian muses, pressing his lips together in thought, “she’s also got a huge rack.” Stewie sits back on his heels, watching on as Brian grins dumbly to himself. “And I’m seeing her tonight at eight."

 

 

 

Brian doesn't make it home that night, but Stewie hears his car pull up at around 7:30 the next morning, while he sits in his highchair at the kitchen table wading a spoon through the Cheerios Lois has prepared for him.

When he walks in, Brian’s fur is matted; he’s got bags under his eyes. He goes immediately for the coffeemaker, dragging a chair over to it and crawling up to pour himself a mugful without a word to his young friend. Lois is nowhere to be seen, but they’re both thankful for it - she'd only lecture Brian if she saw the shape of him, and Stewie has questions of his own.

“How’d it go with Jennifer?”

He makes a point to not sound overly interested, looking down at his meal and barely at the dog as he speaks.

Brian groans, rubbing his temple with one paw, gripping his mug tight with the other. A golden sunrise beams through the kitchen window and makes his eyes narrow. “It was great - up until she woke up sober.”

“Awwwh,” Stewie empathizes.

“She also...might have caught me making a date with another girl when I was on my phone.”

“Youch.”

“Well, if it isn't _Dog Juan_ ,” Lois snarks from the doorway, stifling petty laughter at her own joke as she enters the room. “How'd your date go, Brian? You look like you've been through the ringer.”

He looks up with tired eyes, his finger circling the edge of his mug.

“It was good, and then it was bad. I don't really wanna talk about it.”

“Well, you can't win ‘em all,” her tone of voice oozing false pity.

It's then that she scoops Stewie up out of his highchair, holding him in her arms while she bustles about the kitchen, putting away clean dishes and housing dirty ones in the sink.

“Don't worry, Brian,” Stewie coos over his mother's shoulder, “someday you'll find your Manic Pixie Dream Girl.”

Brian’s forehead connects with the table in a dull thud. “Well,” he murmurs, “there is a silver lining - I’m seeing someone else tonight, and I think I have even more in common with her than I did with Jennifer.”

Lois replies with a disinterested “Uh-huh?” as her son simultaneously scoffs “ _Really?_ ” and then Lois is leaving Brian alone in the kitchen, with Stewie and a half glass of red wine in tow. She trots up the stairs and to the baby’s room.

Stewie puts up with a feeding and a change of his diaper; his mother telling him, “Now mommy’s just going to be downstairs vacuuming.” As soon as she’s gone, however, he shuts the door; spins on his heel to survey his room for Rupert.

Rupert, as it turns out, is still asleep, and Stewie decides with some hesitation to let him be. Instead, he pulls his phone from his back pocket, settling down cross-legged in the middle of the floor and loading up the App Store.

“T - I - N…”

Tinder is the first app that appears, its magenta-coral icon taunting him to press Install.

“Silver lining my left foot…”

 _Don’t you think you have bigger fish to fry?_ His brain snips at him.

He clicks install to spite himself, watching the download bar run up to 100% in no time and opening the app as soon as it’s ready. “Brian wants to meet someone he has something in common with...He could stand to spend a little more time with _me_.”

Setting up his profile is simple enough; he runs through a mental list of names that are attractive enough to catch a guy, but not slutty enough to catch the _wrong_ guy. He pretends he’s 19 going on 20, he lives with his roommate Becky and her cat Speck, and wants to be a writer for Cosmo when he graduates.

“Mmm…” There’s a gallery full of old selfies on his phone, and he thumbs speedily through them, lips pursed in thought. “Blondes do have more fun...”

With a few blind taps, Stewie’s got a small gallery and a profile; in his best picture, he’s sitting on the hood of a yellow ‘76 Camaro, platinum curls framing his face as he raises a martini glass amidst a crowd of men.

“Aw, Vegas…” Stewie muses under his breath, spacing out in remembrance before finally selecting and cropping it to be his display image.

“Aaaand, done,” he grins. “Now I just have to find Brian on this thing. Bait ‘im, hook ‘im and stand the pompous bastard up, should be easy enough.”

Three minutes of swiping left - and a few rights - later, and he’s got him. He’s face-to-screen with Brian’s glamour shot from the back of his failed novel, and Stewie cringes, swiping right because, well, it’s the reason he’s downloaded the app to begin with, isn’t it? No matter how painful?

“Ugh.”

And then, there’s a magenta-orange pop up that tells him he has a match.

“Already? Yeesh, Brian, you’re more eager than a dog with a bone.” His wrist swats the air and he smirks, “Oh but look, you are.”

He taps to accept the match, and his first received chat message comes just as quickly.

Brian G.  
  
YOU MATCHED WITH BRIAN G. ON 6/21/18  
**Brian G)** Hey there  
  


 

 

 

“Courtney Campbell” is made up of two wigs, M.A.C Dreamy Beams eyeshadow and Givenchy Le Rouge. He paints the hills of his lips with expert precision; paints the corners of his eyes into perfectly symmetrical points.

“I am on fire,” Stewie coos into the mirror, looking into it back at Rupert, sitting at the orange roundtable in the center of the room. “Brian won’t know what hit him.”

He sweeps his platinum fringe to the side, kissing the air. There’s a red dress and a black dress slung over a chair behind him, and he turns - eyes them both back and forth and back - humming when he picks up the red one and holds it against himself.

“It’s off-brand,” he tells Rupert, “but it does wonders for my figure.”

It works well with the rose gold hoops he clips to his ears, and once he’s tossed the dress on over his head and posed for the mirror, he turns again to his bear, “What do you think?”

Stewie interprets his stuffed friend’s silence as sarcasm, and rolls his eyes.

“Well, this is a special occasion. I have a date with Brian,” he beams, eyes closed, proud and smug. “And, well, no, he doesn’t know it’s me...but that’s the point, you see. He’s just _so distracted_ lately, barely spends any time with me at _all_.”

One spritz of Pink Friday.

_Weren’t you just going to stand him up for a laugh?_

“You don’t know how frustrating it is to watching him fall for _every girl_ who gives him the time of day - he’s just so...complacent,” he scoffs up at the ceiling as he slips on one black pump - “you know?” - and then the other. “I need- I need to show him that relationships are established over time. He thinks he knows these women after two dates!”

Dressed and ready to go, Stewie plumps the bottom of his curls, leaving them to bounce about his shoulders. He's got a little black Betsey Johnson purse that he grabs from the table and absently tosses his lipstick into.

“He's going to feel quite the fool when he realizes he's been duped by ol’ Stewie here.”

He and Rupert are face to face now, Stewie having picked the bear up to move him back to his crib. The hem of his dress flows around his knees and the kid feels giddy as the phone in his purse vibrates and dings at once.

It's Brian, through Tinder’s chat. He's been out of the house for the better half of the day, so when Stewie gets the message, he figures it's Brian telling him he's at the restaurant already.

Brian G.  
  
**Brian G)** Just at the gym, heading out in a min  
  
**Brian G)** See you soon :)  
  
Jun 22, 2018 8:23 PM  
  


Stewie rolls his eyes.

“Don't even go there, Rupert, I am sick and tired of your jealousy. I am not doing this for me - this is to prove a point and to humiliate that dumb mutt I call a friend.”

 _555-3434_.

Stewie hums to himself as he inputs the number and orders a cab. He stares at Rupert as he does it, eyes wild and determined and defiant. He really does know what's best for Brian - after all this time, that's one thing he's absolutely sure of. He doesn't need anyone getting in his way, not Jennifer or Rupert or anyone.

He just needs to get through to Brian.

“Don't wait up.”

 

 

 

The cab rolls up to 1094 Pillar Avenue, a swanky-looking French restaurant in a middle-class part of town. The parking lot is full as dubious proof of its merit.

“Huh,” says Stewie, paying his driver, “Chez Antoine…You been here before?”

The driver grunts noncommittally, thumbing through his cash. Stewie opens the passenger side door, hopping out and balancing on his heels on the curb.

“Nice chat.”

Brian is waiting at a table near the front of the place when Stewie arrives, and he's inwardly relieved that he actually knows what the dog looks like; hates the awkwardness that comes with connecting a display picture to the real thing. He's wearing a dark grey blazer that compliments his lavender dress shirt - what Stewie has come to recognize as his go-to date attire - hands clasped and twiddling his thumbs until he notices his date step in.

The dog hops off of his chair to pull one out on the opposite side.

“Courtney,” he says, taking Stewie by the hand and placing a chaste kiss on its backside, smiling when he retreats to his seat. “It's nice to meet you - and you look great! Though, I gotta say, you're a lot shorter than I expected.”

“Most men just say I'm petite, but I guess if you wanna be a dick about it…” Stewie mumbles.

“What was that?”

“Hm?”

Stewie brushes his hair back from out of his eyes as he takes his seat directly across from his unwitting friend. There's already a glass of water poured for each of them, a lit candle in the center of the table on the deep red tablecloth. It's a nice place. He's never heard of it and wonders how Brian has; wonders how many women he's taken here on first dates. It obviously works out for him.

“You know, Courtney,” Brian starts, making eye contact over his menu, “I was excited to see that you study journalism. I'm a bit of a writer myself,” he chuckles self-assuredly, tail wagging against the back of his chair.

“Oh, I _know_ , I've read ‘Faster Than the Speed of Love’ three times,” Stewie flashes him a forced smile, speaking through gritted teeth, “and it never gets old.”

Brian puts down his menu. “Oh yeah? You know my book?” For a brief moment he has a stunned, blank stare, before recovering with a cocky grin tugging at his lips. “Well maybe I can come over after dinner and I'll sign your copy.”

“Ooh,” Stewie coos, “may-maybe…”

Brian orders them both mojitos and braised pork, and Stewie finds that the move doesn't actually bother him at all. Conversation is polite and casual, owing perhaps to their established chemistry, but Stewie gives Brian credit where it's due - he's a perfectly tolerable date.

“I hope you don't mind mojitos. Maybe you're more of a wine kinda girl?”

Stewie sips gingerly at his drink, certainly not aiming to l get drunk under the circumstances. “Noo, I love mojitos! And I love wine…well, I love just about anything, I'm an absolute lush. Alcohol, am I right?”

“Heh, you're not wrong.”

They clink glasses and enjoy a momentary silence while they eat.

“D’you think this pork is microwaved?” Stewie asks, poking at his plate and chewing the meat more than should be necessary. “I think the pork is microwaved…You know, not that it doesn't taste okay…”

Brian smiles, “You sound just like my friend Stewie.”

Stewie nearly drops his fork, fumbling his utensils with a clang; heart dropping in his chest with a short intake of air. “O-oh yeah? How so?”

“Ah, he just likes to nitpick everything.” He looks up to find Courtney staring at him with a quizzically bemused expression and panics, “Not that I think that's a bad thing! I don't mind.” He laughs forcibly to show his good intentions. “In fact, I think it's kind of endearing. I mean, why settle, right?”

“Stewie sounds like a smart fellow,” Stewie says, taking another bite from his fork and dabbing at his lips with his cloth napkin.

“Yeah, you know, his dad's my best friend…but Stewie's the only one in the family who I really relate to,” he says fondly, sipping his mojito. “I guess maybe that's why I try so hard to form connections elsewhere. I guess you should know, I've never really…had a long-term relationship.”

It warms Stewie's heart to hear the sentiment, but he instantly feels a pang of guilt. He can't blame the poor sap for wanting to find someone to connect with on an intimate level, but at the same time…

Well, he can't put a name to the feeling.

“I find it hard to believe that someone so handsome and charming has trouble with women.”

It's hard to say it - Stewie wants to slip into his habit of ribbing the dog - but he bites his tongue and swallows his food and strokes the dog’s ego.

“I'm hoping that unlucky streak can end tonight.”

 

 

 

They sit together in Brian's parked car, outside of an east side apartment complex that Courtney says is hers. Taylor Swift is on the radio, betraying the silence between them, tension growing in Brian's knuckles as he grips the steering wheel. Stewie knows what's expected of him at this part of a date.

It's just usually not this awkward.

“I had a lovely evening, Brian,” he bats his eyes demurely. His brain is screaming at him to stop, _Do it now! Tell Brian who you are and make him feel like the pathetic cur he is!_

But Stewie _did_ have a good evening. It was fun, and Brian had been unexpectedly chivalrous.

“Perhaps…we can see each other again…”

Brian’s eyes are heavy lidded when he turns, Prince Charming’s soft smile plastered across his mug when he says, “I'd like that.”

 _You've done it now, Griffin_ , Stewie chides himself. _Haven't you gone far enough? It's bad enough that you didn't just stand him up - you actually went through with the date! Rupert was right all along - who's the pathetic one here?_

And then Brian is leaning over as far as his seat belt will allow, eyes closed and head tilted in obvious askance of a kiss. His left paw finds Stewie's legs and he massages a lazy thumb into the kid’s knee as he just hangs there dumbly, waiting for Courtney to close the gap.

Stewie gulps.

He wants to - the voice in his head be damned - so he leans in to meet Brian's lips with his own.

The second he does, Brian is pushing forward, trying to deepen the kiss despite his restraint, with Stewie trying his best to keep up, dropping his jaw to let Brian lick into him and running his own tongue against the dog’s. They breathe hotly against each other, Brian grunting softly into Stewie's mouth and Stewie pulling away with a gasp.

“We don't have to end the evening now,” Brian says lowly, his hopeful, lidded eyes boring into Stewie's.

The kid recovers quickly from the shock - it's not that he isn't used to the come-ons, but something inside the pit of his stomach churns at the thought of Brian actually wanting to…do adult things with him. It feels wrong that Brian is attracted to him, but not _him_ him. It feels exciting for the same reason.

“Take me out for Italian next time and we'll see,” Stewie titters, playfully swatting at the dog's chest.

Brian's tie hangs out into Stewie's lap, and he can't help but run his finger along the silken embroidery of it; tugging the dog back to him with it and pressing their lips together once more for a quick kiss, and then Stewie’s belt is unfastened and the door swings open, and Courtney Campbell is booting it out of the Prius, blowing the dog a kiss and shoving the car door closed with both hands.

“Goodnight, Brian!” Stewie shouts, waving and making his way to the front door of the apartment building. He makes it inside as far as he can get without needing a buzzer code, and watches the Prius drive off out of sight.

His heart is ready to leap out of his chest with how fast it's beating; he leans against the wall, the coolness of its faux marble paneling helping to soothe his nerves as he pulls his cell phone from his purse.

Another cab ride home - an expensive prank for a worthless dog. _Was it worth it?_

Stewie refuses to acknowledge the devil's advocate in his head as he dials the same number he'd used earlier in the evening, and soon he's in the backseat of a yellow checkered cab on its way to Spooner Street.

He deletes the app from his phone on the way home, has the car stop a few doors down at Quagmire's house. It's a dark, cool night; his phone says 11:49pm. No Prius in the driveway is a good sign, but all the lights in the house are still on, which leaves the boy no choice but to go around the side of the house and break in through the window.

It's something he's used to, but no less inconvenient every time he needs to shimmy up the tree adjacent to his bedroom window. He strips from his dress and removes a blue jumper from his purse, folding the red fabric nicely to avoid wrinkles. He stuffs his black heels in as well, at least as much as they'll fit, and then he's slinging his belongs over his shoulder to begin the climb.

He was careful to leave his window unlocked and prays that Lois didn't touch it - but if she did, he'd have bigger problems, like having to justify where he was all night to Chris at best or Brian at worst.

Luckily, things go according to plan, and Stewie breaks into his bedroom, being quick to stash Courtney's things in a locked chest he hides in the closet, taking off his wig and faux lashes hastily and storing them alongside the purse.

He can hear the Prius pull into the driveway and makes a dive for his crib; covers up over his shoulders, Rupert beside him. The lights are already off, so all that's left to do is lay down his head and be asleep.

The front door of the house closes, and soon there are gentle footsteps on the stairs - the top stair creaks and Stewie counts down the seconds until Brian is turning his doorknob quietly, slowly--

“Stewie,” the dog whispers, “are you awake?”

Stewie doesn't answer; concentrates on evening his breath.

Brian closes the door behind him. There's some subtle shuffling around, which Stewie assumes is Brian ridding himself of his date suit. Then soon, there's another creak from the floor, and Brian is walking on all fours in a circle at the foot of the crib, preparing for slumber. Stewie is dizzy; his heart is brimming with an inexplicable feeling of happiness as he smiles to himself, snuggling the blankets closer and being overtaken by sleep as well.

 

 

 

Brian joins Stewie on the living room couch the following morning.

Thanks in part to Chris and Meg running back and forth between the kitchen to grab their bagged lunches and the living room to get ready for school, the silence between the duo stretches on longer than is fully comfortable. Then Chris has to run upstairs to fetch his homework and Meg flips through channels on the television to waste time before the bus, and the entire time, neither of them say hi to their baby brother or their dog.

The silence maybe isn't so much uncomfortable as it is unwanted; Brian wants to spill the beans on last night's date - Stewie can tell from the way his index finger bounces up and down on the arm of the couch at top speed. When dumb and dumber are out the of the house for good, Brian grins.

“So...had a pretty hot date last night.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What a refreshing night. Had a great time, wow. So much fun--” The dog leans in closer, still grinning. “Do you wanna ask me about it?”

“I didn't even ask you about Thursday's date. We just completely glazed over that one,” Stewie looks at his sippy cup impassively. “You know Brian, when you’re seeing so many women, your dates begin to lose all importance.”

“Well not to me,” Brian frowns. “This one…I felt like we really connected. Kind of like I've known her forever, you know?”

“You've felt that way about every girl you meet.”

“Not like this. Here,” Brian pulls out his phone, “take a look.” He unlocks his screen, sliding Tinder open and then passes the phone to Stewie, who grabs it and holds it up, examining the picture on its screen.

_Brian’s probably onto you, are you going to drop the charade and admit this is you?_

“Looks like she had fun in Vegas.”

There’s another silence as the dog settles back against the couch, chin in one hand, grabbing the remote and flipping around until he settles on the news.

“Eugh,” Stewie groans, mumbling lowly as he turns his attention to his phone. “Stupid boring news.”

It’s only when he can see Brian looking at him out of the corner of his eye that Stewie truly does begin to consider that Brian has caught onto him. _But if he knows it’s me, why doesn’t he just come out with it?_

Finally Brian raises his head from his hand and gives Stewie an unsure look.

“So listen…” He taps out an uneven rhythm on the chair. “You're not on Tinder, are you?” He takes a casual sip of his morning coffee, but it can't hide the anxiety in his tone.

“Hmph, you wish. As if I have time to waste on something as trivial and bro-ridden as Tinder.”

“...Can I see your phone?”

“Hey, whoa! Invasion of privacy or what?” He gives Brian and warning stare.

Brian rakes his hands over his head. His voice breaks, “Please, Stewie. I- I just need to see that you don't have the app on your phone.”

Stewie reluctantly passes his phone, unlocking it as he does so - his wallpaper is a shirtless Nick Jonas, so it nearly doesn't phase Brian when rather than Tinder, he discovers an even more unseemly app in the kid's app tray.

“Don't tell me you actually use this--” he flashes the screen towards Stewie, the Grindr icon right above his thumb.

“Hey,” Stewie glares, snatching his phone from Brian's paws. “None of your business.”

They let a pregnant pause linger between them.

“Really?” When the boy just stares coolly in response, Brian continues. “Stewie, that's- that's sick. You're baiting men into becoming unwitting predators. If someone ever did that to me, I'd- I'd probably off myself.”

Brian chuckles nervously, taking another draw from his coffee mug; Stewie watches with wide, unsure eyes. He echos the dog's soft laughter.

“But, you wouldn't _really_?”

When Lois enters from the kitchen, the conversation dies, and Stewie is left to his own devices stealing covert glimpses of the dog between sips from his cup before finally retreating upstairs.

He tosses his cell phone across the floor as soon as he reaches his bedroom.

“Caused me nothin’ but trouble,” he hisses. To his left, Rupert taunts him from his crib. He falls to his knees. “Oh, you’re right-- I did this to myself! I need to tell Brian...”

Crawling over to his phone, Stewie lies down on his back in defeat. He draws his finger across the screen; reinstalls the app and logs in. There’s a backlog of messages waiting for him.

Brian G.  
  
**Brian G)** Had a great time tonight  
  
**Brian G)** I forgot to sign your copy of my book. You want me to come back?  
  
Jun 22, 2018 11:37 PM  
  
**Brian G)** I’m outside your place if you want to bring it down  
  
Jun 22, 2018 11:38 PM  
  
**Brian G)** I’ll bring you a signed copy next time ;)  
  
Jun 22, 2018 11:45 PM  
  
**Brian G)** I’m going to have sweet dreams tonight ;) Goodnight Courtney  
  
Jun 22, 2018 11:52 PM  
  
**Brian G)** Morning! You free for dinner later?  
  
**Brian G)** I got a reservation at Bertoldi’s but I can cancel if you can’t make it  
  
Jun 23, 2018 8:04 AM  
  


Stewie grimaces. “He’s making it pretty easy to turn him down...Desperate much?”

Still, despite typing out “Get lost,” Stewie’s thumbs hover over the keyboard and he hesitates to hit send.

Brian G.  
  
**Brian G)** I got a reservation at Bertoldi’s but I can cancel if you can’t make it  
  
Jun 23, 2018 8:04 AM  
  
**CC)** Hey!  
  
**CC)** Let's have dinner, I'll meet you there  
  


 

 

 

They take a stroll through the park after a fairly flawless Italian dinner. The park itself is secluded and vacant at this hour, with the streetlights casting long shadows over the walkway. Stewie revels in the warmth of Brian's paw on his hand as they cross the field, past the playground and to a bench.

“Sure is lovely out, huh?” Brian sits first and wraps his arm around Courtney’s shoulder once she makes it up beside him. “Nice, crisp air--”

“Look at all those stars!” Stewie sighs wistfully, snuggling up close to absorb the dog’s body heat; resting his head on Brian's shoulder.

Brian follows Courtney’s gaze across the sky, taking in the starkness of the stars, unaffected by the lights of the city - the surrounding trees doing wonders for the light pollution. It's such a peaceful atmosphere - one might easily get used to dates like this--

“There's only one thing more beautiful,” Brian says lowly, suave and practiced in his pick-ups.

Stewie looks over and flutters his lashes with a coy smile. “Oh, stop.”

 _Yes, stop!_ His brain is screaming at him, but then Brian is leaning in, a soft paw on Courtney's chin to tilt their lips together, and Stewie can't help but give into it. It feels right, and he finds himself caring less and less about making a fool of the family dog.

Brian's arm roams from around Courtney's shoulder to the small of her back; to the curve of Stewie's ass. He moans into Brian's throat when he squeezes, deepening the kiss as their teeth clack together and Brian's tongue runs along the roof of his mouth.

Stewie instinctively reaches for Brian's thigh, and to his delight, the dog doesn't pull away the way he would have if Stewie wasn't wearing women's clothing. It emboldens him to keen into every minute touch, giving himself to Brian completely--

 _Not completely_ , warns the voice in his head. _You know what'll happen if Brian finds out!? He'll hate you forever, or at least until he offs himself!_

Stewie pulls away suddenly at the thought, startling Brian as well - though only slightly, as his hand continues to grope at his date's backside through her dress.

“What's wrong?”

Stewie hesitates, searching Brian's eyes for any hint that the dog secretly recognizes him. _Just tell him now before anything happens that you regret!_

“N-nothing,” he lies. “It's just that…this is all moving so fast.”

Stewie’s words are overly dramatic as he pulls away ever so slightly - enough for Brian to take a hint. Horny mutt that he is, though, he doesn't go down without a fight, leaning into give Courtney a peck on the cheek, and subsequent pecks along her jaw.

“I thought we were having a nice time,” he whispers next to the shell of her ear.

“We- we are. Why spoil it?” Stewie protests, but ultimately lets Brian nibble at his neck, sighing and encouraging the dog to continue.

_Every little bit just makes it worse._

“I need to get up early for class,” Stewie lies, eyes still closed, brow knit tight. Finally he presses a manicured hand to the dog's chest to push him away. Brian looks down at his date who won't make eye contact, forlorn but complying nevertheless; straightening his clothes over his chest and scratching at the back of his neck.

“Of course, uh, sorry. Can I drive you home?”

“I think I’ll walk,” Stewie smiles sheepishly. “Skipped out on my yoga class today, I could use the exercise.” He’s already backing away as he speaks; turning away in a speedwalk, “I had a great time! Goodnight!”

He runs all the way home, heart racing and out of breath by the time he ends up having to shuffle up the tree outside his window yet again.

Brian takes longer to get home this time - when he finds his way to Stewie’s room, his breath wreaks like whiskey and his eyes are heavy-lidded and pink. He doesn’t turn on the bedroom light, but Stewie is standing in his crib, so he makes no attempt to keep quiet as he enters the room further.

“So,” hums Stewie, yawning and running an eye for show, “how'd your date go?”

Brian lightly kicks a stuffed octopus out of the way, staring at his feet as he closes the door behind him and makes his way to the roundtable.

“I think I mighta blew it.” He makes to take off his blazer, throwing it over a chair unceremoniously. “I tried to make a move on her and she freaked out, said she had class in the morning.”

“Well,” Stewie tries, “maybe she did.”

“It's Saturday.”

As soon as Brian is free from his dress shirt and tie, he's on his phone, thumbing the lock screen open and scrolling through his apps.

“I gotta apologize to her.”

_The gig’s up, Griffin._

“Don't--!”

His phone isn't muted. Stewie braces himself for the oncoming notification, but none comes, Brian instead having stopped to hear what the kid has to say.

“What do you mean, ‘don't?’”

The blue glow of Brian's phone does little to obscure the panic on Stewie's face, but mercifully the dog doesn't grill him any further. Stewie lays down in his crib, preparing for slumber to get Brian off his back, but offers, “If she was already that nervous, you don't want to scare her more by bombarding her with messages, do you?”

“I- I guess not.”

“There y’go, tiger. Give the poor girl some space.” He fluffs his pillow. “Now are you spending the night or are you going to leave and let me get some well-needed rest?”

Brian’s brow furrows, looking dejected at first; still holding his phone, looking at it once before pressing the power button.

“I think I'll stay up a bit longer.”

The fond smile he offers Stewie before opening the bedroom door sets the boy's heart on fire. He reciprocates the smile, finally laying his head down, but eyes never leaving his canine companion.

“Things’ll work themselves out in the morning. Goodnight, Brian.”

“Goodnight Stewie.”

The dog closes his bedroom door, and the room falls darker - the only light from the overcast moon outside. The door isn't closed for two minutes before Stewie is desperately grabbing at his pillow; tearing it away to grapple at his phone and turn it to vibrate. It isn't much longer before Courtney is receiving a vibrating notification from Tinder.

“Goddammit, dog,” Stewie cursed under his breath, tapping it and reading an Award Winning apology by Brian Griffin.

Brian G.  
  
**Brian G)** Hey, I'm really sorry if i scared you off  
  
Jun 24, 2018 12:01 AM  
  
**Brian G)** I don't feel this kind of connection with a lot grils  
  
**Brian G)** & i guess i rushed it  
  
**Brian G)** Can I take you out again sometime?  
  
Jun 24, 2018 12:02 AM  
  


Stewie sighs, reading the messages over and over again.

“Seems like I've really charmed the proverbial pants off him, Rupert,” Stewie says softly, yawning for real now.

_This is your out. Take it and run!_

He holds his phone in front of him for a good long while, thumbs hovering over the keypad until inspiration strikes

Brian G.  
  
**Brian G)** Can I take you out again sometime?  
  
Jun 24, 2018 12:02 AM  
  
**CC)** Yes  
  


“I've got to step up my game if I want to keep this going...I suppose I could blow him, once.” He finds himself with a bit of a headache and a twisted feeling in his gut as his bear criticizes him.

“I fully _intend_ to keep this up,” Stewie spits. “Brian said he and I have a connection. What's the harm in pursuing that?”

More criticism from the bear, still.

“Well, you're right-- I _am_ selfish. What Brian doesn't know can't hurt him.”

And with that, Stewie pulls the covers up over his head and settles into sleep, back turned to Rupert and his own Negative Nancy of a conscience.

 

 

 

In the morning, after Lois has changed his diaper and clothed him, Stewie checks his phone to find several more messages from the family dog.

Brian G.  
  
**CC)** Yes  
  
Jun 24, 2018 12:03 AM  
  
**Brian G)** so it's okay??  
  
**Brian G)** I'm really sorry  
  
Jun 24, 2018 10:11 AM  
  
**Brian G)** do you wanna get lunch?  
  
**Brian G)** Or I'll have the house to myself while the family's @ church ;)  
  
**Brian G)** Sorry  
  
Jun 24, 2018 10:13 AM  
  


Stewie sighs. “Yikes. Dating Brian is worse than being a vegan at a Texan steakhouse...”

Brian G.  
  
**Brian G)** Sorry  
  
Jun 24, 2018 10:13 AM  
  
**CC)** How about we go for ice cream later? :)  
  
**CC)** 2:00?  
  


Sneaking away from the family after church will be difficult, but worth it, he decides, packing some of Courtney’s things into his backpack in order to make a quick escape once they’re home. He doesn’t see Brian all morning.

But he’s looking forward to their date.

 

 

 

On the hood of Brian's Prius, they eat their ice cream together, trading bites of each other’s cones. Courtney gets pistachio amaretto and Brian gets butterscotch ripple, and life couldn't be sweeter for the boy.

Brian has yet to say anything awkward; he's also dropped the suit act and the air between them is much more casual and familiar.

It's with this in mind that Stewie feels daring enough to lean in close, swiping a finger teasingly across Brian’s jaw where a dallop of ice cream has landed on his fur; scooping up the ice cream and bringing it to his mouth, Brian watching the display with intense eyes as Stewie sucks his digit clean.

Brian chuckles unsuredly, and for once he actually looks shy. “Thanks.”

“You know, Brian,” Courtney purrs, taking another lick from her cone with eyes glue to the dog's, “I might be willing to do that…elsewhere.”

Brian balks, just slightly.

“Y-yeah?” And then, “I'm sorry, I just- I thought you wanted to take things slow?”

“Well,” Stewie licks his Magenta Minx-painted lips, “it's because…I don't usually do things like this. My roommate was being a real catty bitch about it.”

_A perfect lie for a perfect phoney._

“I'm sorry, Bri.”

The dog's eyes light up a bit in recognition of the nickname. Stewie's heart drops and he rushes to add, “...an. Brian.”

The two finish their cones in silence, Stewie looking sheepishly over at Brian, and Brian doing the same, until finally their eyes meet and Stewie murmurs, “Was that weird?”

Brian wraps a hand around Courtney's core, gripping her waist. “The only person who calls me that is Stewie,” he smiles, “but I guess he'll have to share.”

Stewie inwardly heaves a sigh of relief.

“In fact, I know we've only know each other a few days,” - _Don't propose, don't propose, don't propose_ \- “but I really like spending time with you. I don't suppose you'd want to date, uh, only me?”

Stewie is gobsmacked at the prospect; giddy, even. He swoons at the words, paying no mind to the fact that they're really meant for someone who isn't him--

“You mean like 'going steady?' Of course, _Bri!_ ” He nudges Brian softly in the side with his elbow and makes the dog grin from ear to ear.

They kiss like innocents - not with tongues and teeth, just ice cream-like sweetness - and when they're done, Stewie pulls out his phone.

“Oooh,” he squeals, “I wanna take a selfie so that we always remember this day--”

His little arms leave much to be desired when it comes to photography, so Brian wordlessly volunteers and takes the phone from his date, holding it sideways as evenly as he can manage, and then with a snap Stewie has a memento of the worst lie he’s ever told.

They look happy.

“If you want to remember more than the ice cream, maybe we can take some pictures later, too.” Brian waggles his brow, and Stewie bites his lower lip to prevent the corner of his mouth from twitching up into too big a grin.

Brian’s implication has his chest feeling tight; he fidgets where he’s seated to hide the twitch between his legs from becoming too apparent in his denim mini skirt. The flush in his cheeks have the dog taking notice, and he gives his date a peck on the top of the head.

_Look at you, are you actually turned on by the family dog?_

“Wanna get outta here?”

_Where are you two going to go? Your non-existent apartment? Your house? With every one of your family members around sans you?_

Staring down at his feet, trying not to giggle for a multitude of reasons, Stewie mumbles a quiet but firm “Sure.” Brian takes Courtney by the hand, helping her down from the hood of the car - a difficult feat for the boy in brand new wedge heels.

“Your place or mine?” Brian says, heading to the driver’s seat until Stewie stops stops him with a nervous cough, eyes darting to the public restroom and back.

“We uh, we don’t have to go _that_ far…”

Eyes wide, it seems as though Brian gets the picture. His mouth drops open and he gapes like a fish out of water before finally asking, “Are you sure?”

Courtney nods, grabbing Brian's hand and hastily dragging him towards the men’s room. He cracks the door, taking a quick survey of how many feet are in stalls, but with luck, the room is empty and he ushers the dog over to the last stall on the far right with a smack on the hind quarters.

The restroom smells like piss and lemon aerosol spray, but the stall itself seems clean enough, save for some unsavory Sharpie graffiti on thin divider walls. Their door doesn't lock, but it doesn't matter - Brian's full weight is lock enough when he slumps against it, lips seeking Courtney’s.

“Ohh baby,” he groans as her mouth opens and his tongue slips inside.

Stewie presses up into the kiss - standing on his tiptoes in wedges - grabbing at Brian's collar to keep himself steady. It's wet and sloppy and gross, and when Stewie pulls away his lipstick is smudged and he begins to get the sinking sensation that this is a bad idea.

But then Brian's hips are rocking against his chest; the dog’s already hard and ready to go.

_I guess you'll have to use a different kind of lipstick…_

Stewie rips a strip of toilet paper from the roll, letting it flutter to the ground in front of Brian's feet as Stewie sinks to his knees. Since the dog’s cock is already red and erect in front of him, it doesn't seem like there's much of a point to teasing him.

He runs the pads of his fingertips along the shaft, delighting in the resulting shiver and Brian's sigh of relief. He grips harder and pumps with both hands in synch, and since there's no one else in the room, it's clear that Brian feels bold enough to gasp out loud, “Ahh, yeah--”

The restroom feels as hot as an oven - Stewie's sure it's only because he’s flushed and aroused and terrified. His eyes drift up to watch the dog writhe in ecstasy against the stall door; it's fascinating.

It's maddening.

He keeps it up for a good few minutes until his hands are slick with precome and he decides it would be in his favour to just get down to brass tacks, licking delicately at his fingers to clean them before bowing his head; running his tongue along the underside of Brian's cock, base to tip.

“Oh, God!”

Brian bucks his hips involuntarily, smearing Stewie's cheek with sticky translucence and making the boy grimace before getting back to it, making Brian moan when the first two inches of his cock are enveloped in the blistering heat of Stewie's mouth.

Comparatively, this is the easiest blow job Stewie's ever given - the tip hits the back of Stewie's throat without issue, and Brian does most of the work himself, holding loosely to Courtney’s hair to guide her in and out. The difficulty comes from Stewie's own pride - the _want_ to give Brian the best blow job of his pathetic life. The _need_ to hear him moan out his name, even if it's a fake one.

He knows Brian's close, knees shaking at the incredible feeling of suction; Stewie's cheeks hollowing, pressing his tongue firmly to Brian's cock and sucking--

The camera snap of Brian's cell phone sounds off above him, and when Stewie looks up again through long, false lashes, there it is - lens pointed right at him, held by Brian's trembling hand. The dog doesn't say a word, but his dopey expression says everything. Stewie’s eyes narrow and his lips curl into a wicked grin as his drags his tongue in circles around the head of the red flesh; pulling off of Brian with a pop and letting the dog's cock slide back and forth on the flat of his tongue for show.

 _Snap_ \--

Stewie hums, licking against Brian's sensitive slit as he growls out in desperation, nearly dropping the phone; slamming his free paw beside him on the door.

“I'm--”

Stewie swallows the length of him down again, holding him there, moaning around him and sending tiny shockwaves to the dog's core.

Brian grits his teeth, thrusting faster than Stewie can control; the kid gags and pulls away just as Brian is arching his back and grunting out his release, a jetstream of sticky white landing on his tongue and across his open, crimson lips.

 _Snap Snap Snap_ \--

Stewie’s eyes are glazed over; cheeks hot with a blush high on them that reach the tips of his ears. He poses lewdly for Brian’s amateur photographs, swiping his tongue across his upper lip slowly; running his index finger over Brian’s leaking tip and sucking the remnants of come from it.

“Oh my God,” Brian pants, just as the door to the restroom opens and two men walk into use the urinals.

Stewie gets to his feet without a sound, leaning against Brian in a fit of exhaustion, stretching his jaw open and closed. He’s careful not to let his groin rub against the dog, reaches down into his skirt to tuck his hardon into the waistband of his silken panties; rubbing his face into soft white fur.

As the men zip up and leave, Brian and Stewie slip out of their end stall and exit the restroom as well - the former leading the latter speedily by the hand to his car. He holds the passenger side door open for Courtney before entering on the driver's side and starting up the car.

“Wow,” Brian hums. “That was amazing...I thought you don't usually do things like this?”

“Oh--” Stewie inhales sharply, trying to keep the lie going. “I meant…fuck dogs.”

“Oh,” Brian says simply, backing out of the driveway and merging into traffic.

“It's still pretty early,” the dog tries finally, “Did you wanna grab a bite to eat? Or…”

Stewie cuts in almost immediately, head still spinning from the adrenaline he's on; confused and grateful and flustered. He yawns with a dainty hand over his lips.

“I need to study for an exam tomorrow. I just…wanted to see you. I couldn't turn you down.” His heart aches with every lie. _If I tell Brian the truth now he’s liable to do something rash...It’s probably best if I cool things down a bit._

“I’m pretty busy all this week, actually...E-exam week…”

“Oh. Alright, I understand that. _Ugh_ , college life, huh?” he chuckles.

Soon they’re nearing Courtney’s building, and despite passing most of the time in silence - save for the easy rock on the radio - the mood in the car isn’t actually half bad. Brian’s still living in the afterglow of his blow job.

“Message me before you go to bed?” the dog asks, pulling up to the main door and parking.

“Of- of course I will,” Stewie chirps. It feels like to have someone who wants to hear from him like this. “I, um…”

“Hey,” Brian interrupts, “can I get your number? Maybe I can call you tonight after you’re done studying...You know, to help give you sweet dreams,” he grins, teeth sharp and white.

Stewie pales. “M-my number?” _He already has your number, you clod! It's Stewie Griffin's!_ “It’s...it’s umm…”

Brian readies his phone, looking over at Courtney questioningly.

“This is, um...this is my roommate’s phone, mine broke,” Stewie says shakily, making to open the car door and bail as quickly as possible. “I’ll message you later and give you my new number.”

Brian nods, leaning in for a kiss that Stewie returns with gusto, and then in a similar fashion to their first date, the kid is out the door in a flash, kissing at the air and waving; nervous to the point of sickness.

“Goodnight, Bri!”

 

 

 

It’s actually a relief - not having to dress up for a few days, not having to be someone else.

Brian’s even paying more attention to him now that he isn’t constantly thumbing through women’s pictures on Tinder. They go back in time to 1928 where their vaudeville act gains sponsorship and notoriety by the Lucky Strike Cigarette company. They go back to reverse their actions when 2018 Quahog ends up being in apocalyptic turmoil for some reason.

They open a pizzeria that fails after a day and challenges the strength of their friendship, and Peter buys a lion and recruits Brian and Stewie as showmen for his circus.

They go out for ice cream at the same place that Brian took Courtney; Stewie only feels slightly awkward about it.

A normal week overall makes him consider having Courtney go AWOL. He never did message Brian back with Courtney’s cell phone number.

But the chats they have on Tinder at night are something else. Brian says things he’s never said to Stewie - lewd things that make Stewie’s cheeks pinken and his brow sweat; make his clothes feel tight below the waist. He encourages it too, no stranger to sexual obscenities, even when he doesn’t fully understand everything being said.

Brian hasn’t even asked to see Stewie’s phone again - the thought occurs as the duo are in the living room, alone during a quiet Thursday night. Brian is on his laptop, sitting at one end of the couch, with Stewie at the other end on his phone. They’re both on Tinder, to Stewie’s smug satisfaction; he grins when Brian’s message comes through to him.

Brian G.  
  
**Brian G)** How’d your exam go yesterday?  
  
**CC)** so good  
  
Today, 12:00 PM  
  
**Brian G)** Have time to go out tonight to celebrate?  
  
**CC)** Tonight?  
  
**CC)** no  
  
**Brian G)** Well it’s been a long week but at least I have your pictures from last time to keep me company ;)  
  
Today, 12:01 PM  
  
**CC)** Tomorrow! Let’s go out tomorrow!  
  
**CC)** Ohh...you still have those do you? XD  
  
**CC)** Naughty doggy  
  


From across the couch, Brian smiles dopily, grabbing his phone and opening his photo gallery. Stewie has to hide his scowl.

_Are you going to do that right here!? Lousy horndog..._

He watches Brian over the top of his phone; watches that dumb, lovestruck grin fade into a horrified, wide-eyed glare in the span of thirty seconds. The dog’s pupils are blown wide and dash about as he eyes the top of the photo all the way to the bottom of it. Over and over again until he’s just staring at one spot.

“Hey,” Stewie hisses aloud, “what’s _your_ problem?”

Brian jolts in his seat; looks slowly up at Stewie. His mouth parts as though he wants to speak - sticky and dry - but no words form.

When Brian returns his attention to the computer, Stewie finds himself with another Tinder message.

Brian G.  
  
**CC)** Naughty doggy  
  
Today, 12:02 PM  
  
**Brian G)** Tomorrow sounds good.  
  


“Sure, don’t say nothin’. Lousy mutt,” he says for cover.

Inwardly, his heart is swimming.

He’d never been shown the photos that Brian had taken on his phone. Maybe Brian hadn’t looked at them until just then either. If either of them had, they may have previously noticed that down between Courtney’s legs - clear as day despite the restroom stall’s dim lighting - was the curve of an erection in her denim skirt.

 

 

 

On a beautiful Friday evening, Brian picks his girlfriend up at the Quahog Bookstore that’s halfway between Stewie’s house on Spooner Street and Courtney’s apartment east of downtown. She strolls out with several shopping bags from the surrounding stores, tossing them into Brian’s backseat when she takes hers up front.

“ _I_ got you a present,” Stewie grins, leaning over into Brian’s kiss and presenting him with a hardback copy of 'Giant of the Senate', Al Franken posing proudly on its cover. “Something tells me you and him would get along.”

“You got _me_ a present? I should be getting you something after all the studying you did this week,” he chuckles. “But I- I guess I’ll be giving you your present soon.”

Stewie throws the dog a plastic grin, clutching his purse to his chest. “Can’t wait.”

He knows what Brian has planned - aside from being on the opposite end of the chat as they were planning their date, Brian’s been making it a point to share all the lurid details with Stewie. And Peter. And the guys. He shouldn’t even be nervous, he’s done similar things with other men - strange men. Men he doesn’t care about.

He cares about Brian.

So, so much.

That, he decides, is what has his stomach doing back flips.

Brian stays silent for most of the trip, which luckily doesn't take very long. They don’t stray too far from the downtown core - Brian had called ahead and gotten a room at the local Motel 6. It isn’t a shack by any means - a step up from what Stewie’s used to, if he’s honest. They park the car, Brian turning to Stewie as he kills the engine.

“You good?”

“Better than that,” Courtney snides, eyelids heavy and sure, refusing to show any trace of anxiety. “Lead the way.”

Their room is on the first floor and easy to find. Brian slides the cardkey into open the door - failing once and then succeeding - and makes to flip on the light switch, but tiny hands grab his arm in protest.

“No--!” The dog looks at him wide-eyed and Stewie's stomach sinks. “I, uh, I have a bad self-image and I don't like guys to see me naked.”

“Oh, okay.”

He ushers Stewie farther into the room, leaving the lights off completely to wash the room in slate. With the curtains drawn, the room is even blacker, the sun only able to peek through thin cracks in the side and top of them.

Stewie sets his purse on the reading chair closest to the window; retrieves a tiny tube of lube and takes off his three inch hoop earrings. He pushes his hair behind one ear and then Brian is on him, grabbing him by the hand and throwing Courtney to the bed.

Stewie yelps in surprise, giggling when he says, “Easy, Rover.”

They kiss, deep and slow - it's different from before where Brian was all tongue and desperation. He cups Courtney’s jaw as he places tiny kisses all over her cheek and chin, his nose leaving wet smears on soft, young skin. Stewie keens into it, moving his head to the side to accept more until Brian's tongue is inside his mouth and moving against his own.

He moans into Brian, and Brian whimpers back, and they stay this way even as Brian begins to peel down the straps of Courtney's dress.

“Mm--!” Stewie breaks the kiss. “Don't!”

Brian breathes heavily against him, clearly more than a little bit irritated. “What? Why not?”

“I'm-- I'm really flat-chested, okay?” the kid tries. “This is a push up bra, I don't want you to be disappointed…”

_I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, Brian!_

“It's _fine_ ,” the dog grunts, mouth back at his date's red lips. His right paw moves along the curve of Stewie's thigh, pushing his dress up higher and higher as his hand moves to Stewie's chest.

He runs his thumb over a nipple and the boy hisses out favourably. He licks a stripe along Stewie's neck and he gasps out again, “Yes--!”

And then Brian's free hand is groping Stewie's right thigh, snaking its way to his front; Stewie inhales sharply and prepares for his world to crumble--

But Brian just fumbles about, running his fingers back and forth where female anatomy should be. Not stopping, but mumbling an honest, “Where’s your…”

Stewie exhales in relief, grabbing the dog by the cheeks and giving him a passionate kiss; scratching behind his ear. The dog lurches his body forward, giving into canine habit and rocking his hips against Courtney's, humping and grunting; tongue lolling out of his mouth and dripping onto Stewie's collarbone.

He's hard, and Stewie can feel heated, sticky flesh dragging over his abdomen. The kid lifts his ass; digs his heels into Brian's sides to better move around so that he's able to shift the alignment of Brian's cock with the crack of his ass.

“Brian,” he purrs, “fuck me.”

Yeah, you're really sorry-- 

The dog chokes out a long, broken moan, drawing away to pump himself while he pushes Courtney's panties to the side.

Stewie takes the opportunity to covertly slick up his entrance, although the snap of the lube’s cap is obvious and he can't bring himself to care. Brian doesn't ask about it, so he assumes it's a thing women do too. His tuck comes untucked, but that's another thing he can't be bothered with now - it's dark, at least.

For his part, Brian doesn't seem to notice or care either - as soon as Stewie taps his arm, the dog is driving into him with one full push of his hips and a strangled hum. The burn of the stretch makes Stewie quiver, gasping in consecutive shallow breaths, brain nearly short-circuiting already. It's the thought of it all that's far more erotic than the act. Brian's a grunting, feral mess on top of him.

Dog dicks are, well…they're something else.

“Christ Stewie, you're so fuckin’ tight--”

It comes out as little more than a whisper, and it takes Stewie a moment to process the words. He contemplates not mentioning it at all, but his mouth is working before his brain can even really react.

“Wh- what?”

The dog skips the pretenses, still fucking into him wildly; leaning into lick at Stewie's neck. He dips his tongue into Stewie's ear, breath clammy against his skin.

“It’s okay,” is all he says.

Stewie whimpers, body wracking in tremors beneath Brian's weight. He tries to move in time with the dog, holding tight to his red collar, burying his face in white chest fur and gasping out for more.

“Brian--!”

Each thrust is enough to give Stewie whiplash - the emptiness as the dog withdraws is life-shattering until Brian's snapping his hips forward and filling him, over and over again until his grasp on Stewie's shoulder tightens.

“I'm gonna fill you up, kid,” he groans through gritted teeth. “That's what you want, right?”

“ _Oh, God_ \--”

Stewie nods feverishly; hopes Brian can see it. _Wants_ Brian to see him now.

“ _Do it, dog_ ,” he hisses aloud, voice his natural tenor.

Brian obeys, stuttering his hips. He holds Stewie tight, letting himself collapse on the kid as he thrusts a few final times, reaching his peak and filling Stewie with liquid heat. He stays inside and they lay panting together; Stewie still hard but not daring to complain.

 _You’re a terrible person, Stewie Griffin_ , the voice in his head sneers.

Only, he doesn’t think he is. It felt good. And right. And Brian could have put an end to it if he really had known afterall--

Put an end to--

“Hey Bri?” Stewie says cautiously. “You’re not...going to end it, are you?”

“Hm?”

“You said you’d kill yourself if someone ever…” Stewie begins to choke up as he continues, “...did what I did.” Full waterworks, now, “I am so sorry!”

Brian doesn’t speak. He slips out, dragging a trail of come with him that makes Stewie cough and flinch between sobs; the dog sits up and looks down at his friend - eyeliner smeared down his cheeks where tears have fallen, blonde curls flattened and frizzy. He pulls down Stewie’s dress.

“I’m not gonna kill myself.”

Stewie’s sobs become softer and less frequent as he comes out of his fit, sniffling and wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

“I think I kind of knew this whole time...”

And then Stewie is sitting up, shuffling up further on the bed, dripping with ejaculate. He mutters a soft “Ew,” wiping his legs down with the comforter that they’re on. “Do you think it’s safe to leave you while I run to the bathroom to tidy up? No razor blades or pills lying about?”

“I said I’m not gonna kill myself,” Brian barks.

Stewie does as he said he would - grabbing his purse, wiggling off the bed and walking frantically to the bathroom; muscles tight. He washes his face, leaving black and red streaks of makeup on the motel’s white face cloth; leaves smears of sticky white on the towel.

The wig comes off, and so does the dress - he stares at himself in the full-length mirror behind the door.

Don’t feel too bad about yourself, I think he likes you. 

"...Well that was a real 180."

He sighs.

“If I come out of here not a woman,” Stewie calls out from behind the bathroom door, “are you going to kill yourself _then_?”

“No!”

And with that, Stewie dresses in his yellow top and red overalls; tussles his hair back into place. The heels come off and he trades them for his regular pair of shoes that had sat at the bottom of his purse. When he looks into the mirror one more time, Stewie grins, flashing himself some gun fingers. The grin fades almost immediately though, as he opens the door to speak with Brian once again.

“We don’t have to speak about this ever again,” he offers.

Brian looks up. He doesn’t look angry or upset, but at the same time he definitely doesn’t look happy. Just truly impassive, and it makes the boy wholly uneasy.

“Stewie, you…” 

Stewie flinches, waiting for the storm.

“You give my life meaning.”

Stewie blinks in disbelief. “What?”

Brian hops down from the bed, standing over the kid so that they’re very nearly face-to-face. So close that Stewie can smell his dog food breath and feel the heat from his nose at his forehead.

“What you did was fucked up, but,” Brian flounders for a moment, brushing a hand over his ears to flatten rebellious fur, “I liked it. I don’t know what I’m gonna do about this...but I’m not going to kill myself. So don’t worry.”

Stewie’s heart swells; tears prickle his eyes. Without thinking he leaps into an embrace, hugging his best friend with everything he’s got, clenching tiny fits into Brian’s fur until finally the dog reciprocates. He rests his chin on the top of Stewie's head, breathing deeply.

“We have the room all night...wanna order room service? My treat.”

Stewie doesn’t release the hug, just mumbles into the fur, “Like a date?”

Brian inhales; Stewie can feel him holding the breath and inwardly curses himself for ruining the moment so soon. Then Brian is breaking away - but incredibly, he still doesn’t look angry. He makes his way back onto the bed, pulling the phone close with one hand and putting the seat beside him as permission for Stewie to join him.

“Yeah,” his eyes are softened; his smile is genuine and hopeful when Stewie smiles back.

“Like a date.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up on Twitter @riachinko!


End file.
